Precious Things
by Mialana
Summary: When Christine left him, he fell into despair. He felt as if no one was there. When Calista came, his darkness went away. But one must know about these precious things before they're meddled with. Phantom of the Opera Fan Fic. Ratig may change in futur
1. Chapter 1

**P**recious** T**hings

By Mialana

Calista had lived a life of solitude throughout her childhood. Her mother passed during the childbirth of her younger sister, whom had died a year after her due to complications of the heart. After that followed five years of emptiness in her home on the shores of France with her father Le Comte **Delauney**. Her father, Byron, was at heart an explorer with a soft spot for caves. This at first did nothing to quell the nerves of a ten-year-old Calista, but she slowly adapted to his hobby- a hobby that soon claimed his life after a massive earthquake in 1866, while he was on an expedition searching a cave in De Bello Monte. After the tragic death of her father, she was immediately placed in the care of her Aunt Le Comtesse Emilie Vasser, who lived in Paris.

While living with her Aunt, she learned of the beauty of the city, the people, and of the arts. She took a strong liking to the Opera, so much in fact, that she literally had to beg her dear aunt and uncle to let her attend many of the showings in the city. If Calista had to choose (in which she already had) an opera house that stroked her fancy, she'd have said it was the _L' Opèra Populaire_. She loved its magnificent gallery, the splendid foyer, the glory and the beauty of the stage. She marveled at the talented men and women who sang and danced upon the stage, time after time she visited. Before long she had been there enough times to beg her uncle to let her have lessons in the arts, other than painting.

"Oncle, please. Please let me have singing and dancing lessons." A thirteen-year-old Calista had begged him.

"No, I will not allow it. You are already a Comtesse, your place is not as an opera singer, nor as any kind of an entertainer, except that as a wife." He said to her. When she questioned him on what he meant, he replied: "You will one day be the wife of an important man. It is your right to please him in every which way. You will need to please him in and out of his bed-"

"Gaston!" Her Aunt Emilie had scolded. "She is only thirteen. She will not need to perform the vile duties of a wife until she is of age. For now though, indulge her. Let her have the lessons she asks for."

"What would you know of her not needing to know that she is to perform the duties required of her now. She is already becoming quite the young lady-"

"She is still a girl, and she will be _just a girl _until she is ready. She is not ready now. So let her pass her time by allowing her to learn to sing and dance. It will cause no harm." So then Le Comte Vasser did as his wife instructed him to do by hiring extra tutors that were gifted in the arts of singing and dancing.

But that was all a year ago as it is now 1870. Apparently she had excelled well enough to become a chorus girl in _Orfeo_, an opera about Orpheus, who attempts to rescue his dead lover Eurydice from Hades, the underworld. The demands of this Opera are high- even for the chorus, but for some reason I know that she, as well as my Christine will excel tonight.

Christine… my sweet Angel of Music. Forever will I want her; because she is everything this darkness can never be- Beauty, innocence, life, friend, love, _and perfection_. This darkness is nothing but hideousness, death, corruption, foe, hatred, _and imperfection_.

Yet this other, Calista… She is promising, just like Christine. She is an impeccable singer and a rather gifted dancer, yet there is something about her. She can do the same as Christine, only when she does it, she can remove the darkness. When I am without her, the darkness is there to still mock me, but seeing her, she seems to make it go away forever… Christine was never able to do that. She could only brighten the darkness, thought it'd still be lurking about in the shadows… but I don't want shadows anymore.

I want my world to be bright as day. Though I doubt that I may ever have it. For now though, let me enjoy watching both of my beauties tonight, for there will be no Carlotta to destroy this wonderful masterpiece, and dwell on why and whom can banish my despair from my life at another time.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading this so far! This is my first Phantom of the Opera fan fiction so I feel very pleased to have written this. For those of you who have read my works on the Harry Potter side of the tracks or the Tamora Pierce tracks, I am almost done with Past Present Future and I will be updating As Fate Will Have It soon this summer! 

I thank you again and I hope that you will review!

Mialana


	2. Chapter 2

**P**recious** T**hings

By Mialana

She denied me. She's gone. She'll never return to her Angel again. And I gave her the world, but what does she do with it? SHE CRUSHES IT, that's what she damn well did! The little Delilah! Have she had no idea that it was only the beginning for us? But no, when she passed the point of no return by telling me that she had decided, she didn't choose me. She chose her little Vicomte, Raoul. I bet they are basking in each other's daytime while I sit here in the doomed shell of darkness.

It is now a little over a year since she left with her _Prince Charming_. Three hundred and eighty six days ago to the occasion. I now sit upon the bridge that we once sang our final duet together, where I asked her to let me follow her wherever she went. I begged her to release me from my dark solitude that had consumed my life, but she merely took off my mask to reveal my grotesque face to the world. I attempted to condemn her with me for eternity in my catacombs, yet her _beloved _felt the need to rescue her. I made her try to save him by buying his life over her love for him. If she chosen her love for him then I would have killed him, then set her free. Yet if she chose to save his life then she would be my eternal bride while he lived above without her for all eternity. But she got both of her wishes, both of their freedom and lives to live in happiness forever. What do I get, an opera house that is now in ruins. I feel worn and distraught. I miss my beautiful Angel. I was her Angel of Music and this is how she repays me!

I don't understand that word sometimes. That "L" word, the word that is supposed to mean, "A feeling of strong attachment induced by that which delights or commands admiration." _Commands admiration_… I did do that of her; I felt and still feel _strongly attached_ to her. I did not only command her admiration I _demanded_ it from her. _I am alone again…_

**

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**The 387th Day**

As I wandered the bright-mirrored hallways of the shelled Opera House I began to remember the song that they once sang that seemed to mock and ridicule me.

"Masquerade,

Leering satyrs,

Peering eyes…

Masquerade,

Run and hide-

But a face will still

Pursue you!"

My face! It still haunts me at every glance, although I have had the time to adjust to seeing myself in the mirror without any form of concealment, such as a mask. I have been alone for so long that I don't really need to hide from anyone like I used to. I had tried to venture out into public, but as I now have no form of any salary I had no way of taking in the luxuries that the _normal_ do.

Every three weeks or so, Madame Giry will come here to provide me with food, news, and some new form of entertainment other than my music. Sometimes she gives me books and sometimes she gives me a canvas with some paints or pastels, she says "as a designer, you should share your images of the world with the rest of the globe." I wish that I could do that. The first three canvases that she gave me were damned with the impression of Christine on them. Followed by those I painted some horrifically graphic scenes where I was successful in murdering the Vicomte. One is of a rose, another with a woman's hand wearing the Swarovoski crystal ring that Christine gave to me as a reminder that she does not want my love for her. The rest of them are of myself as a normal person, with a normal face. Except for the one that I just started. It is of a woman of extreme beauty whom can make Christine look plain.

This woman has honeyed brown and blond hair, her hair is so brilliant it shines like the sun. Her lips are full and they pout like a heart, they are a deep rose red, almost as if she had been kissed. Her skin is a light gold, almost the color of an Indian, yet not too dark. But it's her eyes that have me captivated. Her eyes are the only things that she will ever share in common to Christine- they both have brown eyes. This woman though, has eyes that are as bright as the sun. Golden, like her hair; soft, like her slender frame; sweet like her face; yet fierce all at the same time.

The severe look in her eyes, I do not know where it comes from, but from the way that I have her immortalized on the canvas, shows that she is looking back at something that had happened to her (probably) that somewhat distresses her. This fair madden is someone whom I dream of that will accept me as the man I am inside, not the hideous gargoyle.

In time I can only hope that I can make it out into the world to find this true beauty that will make my dreams come true…

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AN: Hello and thank you for reading the second chapter of my story. I hope that you all have enjoyed it thus this far.

I would like to thank **Kirki** and **freely SPEAKING** for complimenting the story. More on the way! Next chapter things start to pick up and we can finally get going!


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